Fire and Water
by Neon Star
Summary: Will be PG-13 later on. The story of Ecthelion and Glorfindel during the first age. No Slash
1. Default Chapter

This is AU, because I will probably get things out of date, ectra. Don't own Ecthelion or Glorfindel, Tolkien does, though I'm just giving them a past. I hope you enjoy it! More will be coming soon, and updates for the others are on their way. Oh, for those of you who are Glor fans, check out www.geocities.com/queen_of_the_night_jewel/Glorfindel_Shrine.html  
  
Fire and Water  
  
  
Cold. It was so cold.   
  
The youth stumbled forward, nearly numb with the cold. Around him, the snow fell in greater drifts, blanketing him if he stayed still for even a moment. He was dressed in faded rags, telling of a hard time upon the road. Barely ten years old, it was easy to tell him to be of the Eldar race, by his unblemished pale skin, long silver hair, and his distinctly pointed ears. He was too young to be on his own, in the middle of winter in a forest. But there was no one to care for him, and he was alone in his struggle to survive, which he was slowly losing. He had been traveling for a long time, the sorrow in his heart driving him further and further away from others, be they of his own race or the Edain.   
  
He fell, not for the first time. But his struggle to rise was met with failure as his exhausted, frozen muscles refused to go on. He tried again to struggle up, only to find the same failure. Curling up as best as he could to keep somewhat warm, he finally gave into the beckoning sleep that had hounded him for so long. The snow continued to fall, and finally covered his small form in a blanket of white.  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
Boots crunched as they stepped upon the ice and snow as the figure walked among the trees, guiding a midnight black horse with him. The snow had passed, leaving everything covered in white beauty.  
  
But the figure cared nothing for it, only wanting to get to the next town. The storm had delayed him, and that irritated him slightly, but he gave no outward sign that it had. Stopping briefly, the figure pulled his hood back, allowing his golden hair to spill from it. Sharp green eyes took the landscape in at a glance, as sharp, Elven ears listened for any other being. He could hear nothing other then other beasts roaming close by, yet he felt that there was another of his kindred near. Walking forward slowly, his boots connected with something that was too hard to be snow and ice, but too soft to be a root or stone. Kneeling, he gently brushed the snow away, to discover the face of an Elven child. Frowning now, he uncovered the rest of the frozen stiff form, and then checked for a pulse in the child's neck. For a moment, he thought to give him up for dead, when he found the faintest of heartbeats.   
  
Gently lifting the child up, he quickly checked him for any injuries, but only found that the child was half starved, and near dead from the cold. Laying the boy briefly back down in the snow, he pulled his cloak from his shoulders, and wrapped the other in it. Knowing he would not have time to get to the town before the little one succumbed completely to the cold, he set about making a fire. Gathering what dry wood he could find, he quickly set it up and set fire to it.   
  
He then gently gathered up the boy, and laid him close to the fire. Looking up at the sky, he sighed irritably at the thought of stopping for yet another day, and began to set up camp.  
  
Just as he had set up the small cloth shelter he had with him, he noticed that the boy was stirring slightly. Going over to the child, he knelt beside him, and gently put his fingers upon the boy's brow. The child stirred again and opened his liquid blue eyes.  
  
The older Elf stopped just as he was about to move away. For a moment, he felt a connection to the child that he had not had with anyone else before. But the feeling was brief, and quickly slipped away before he could understand it.   
  
Smiling slightly, as not to disturb the child he moved his hand away.  
  
"Hello, he said.  
  
"Hello," the child replied, looking slightly afraid, yet more relieved.  
  
"Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you," the Elf said.  
  
"I know. I'm glad you found me," the child said earnestly, yet the slight fear did not fade from his eyes.  
  
The Elf frowned inside, for he knew that he was not the cause of the child's fears, but what had lead the child out here was what had caused it. Could it be... He shook the thought from his mind; this was not the time to think of that one.  
  
"What are you doing out here alone, little one?" he asked.  
  
The child shivered, and snuggled further in his cloak, "I don't want to talk about it."  
  
"All right," the Elf said, and moved away a little, "Are you hungry?"  
  
The child nodded, causing the older Elf to smile.  
  
"Well then, I think I can find something," the Elf said, turning to his pack nearby.  
  
Ruffling through it quickly, he noted distastefully that his food supply was rather low. In fact, he was down to only a few pieces of dried apples, and a near dried out piece of bread. Sighing, he lifted these scarce items, and handed them reluctantly to the child, for he wished he had something better to offer to the starving child. But the child did not seem to mind the staleness of what was offered, but took it gratefully, and smiled brightly at him before beginning to eat.  
  
"Who are you?" the child asked between mouthfuls.  
  
"Nárello, the wanderer," the Elf said, "You?"  
  
The child stilled in his eating, and his eyes turned inward in thought. Sorrow clouded his fair eyes, and he looked back to Nárello, "I can't remember," he said softly, biting his lip.  
  
The older Elf's heart panged for the younger, for it must indeed have been such a harsh tragedy for him to forget his own name.  
  
"Child, do you know where you parents are?" Nárello asked softly.  
  
"Nay, but I believe they are dead," the child whispered, bowing his head as he tried to hide the tears that seemed to flood his eyes.  
  
Nárello sighed softly, for he feared what could have happened to this child's parents, and others that had probably been with them If what he feared had happened, had indeed happened, then the child was without guardian, and was too young to be without. He could not leave him alone within these fell woods, not with the enemy's kind nearby.  
  
"Then I believe you shall have to come with me," Nárello said.  
  
The boy looked up to him once more, that look of relief again within his eyes. The elder could not blame him, for he knew he was probably deathly scared, and had only narrowly escaped death.  
  
"We shall have to decide upon a name along the way, for I cannot call you Elfling the entire time that you are with me. We shall be traveling to an Atani town nearby, and perhaps stay the winter there," Nárello continued.  
  
He had not planned to stop there, only gather supplied and be gone, but now with this child, he knew it was much too cold to go on traveling through the bitter winter. The child would not be up to it, and he resigned himself to his fate of having to stay in one place for a while.  
  
The child nodded again, seemingly accepting of staying with him, though he had only met him a scarce hour ago. Nárello noted that this may be a reaction of delayed shock, or desperation, but somewhere in his harden heart, he took pity upon the boy.  
  
The child suddenly yawned slightly, and his eyes blinked sleepily. Sighing softly once again, the older Elf reminded himself that the child had indeed just started recovering from a near death experience. He stood, quickly crossed over to the child, and gently picked him up, making sure the cloak was securely wrapped around the small form.  
  
"Come, we shall get some rest, and start up towards the town tomorrow," he said to the sleepy child, and carried him into his tent. 


	2. 2

Will change Atani to Avari to fit the time, which is before men, as soon as I can fix the chapter.  
  
Thanks for all the comments! :)  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
Nárello awoke to sunlight streaming into his eyes. Groaning softly, he flinched and rolled over, to find a warm body pressed against him. At first, his old instincts swarmed him, and his hand went to the dagger at his hip, then last night's memory overrode it, and he let his hand relax.   
  
Looking down at his newly acquired charge, Nárello took a moment to study the slumbering child. He noted that the child must still be slightly sick, for he slept with his eyes closed, and his face was paler then it should have been. Reaching forward, he gently touched the child's silver hair, then his small neck, finding the boy's pulse. At least that was strong and steady.  
  
Reluctantly, he then put a hand to the child's shoulder, and shook him gently awake. The boy stirred, blinking open clear blue water eyes, before giving a slight frightened squeak and sitting up. Placing a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder, the child twisted to him, and the fear that had bubbled up in his gaze simmered off, to be replaced with a relieved look. Then the child did something unexpected. He threw himself into the elder Elf's arms, snuggling his head tightly against Nárello's shoulder. Shocked, Nárello could do no more then stiffly wrap his arms around the slender form.  
  
"I had thought that this had been a dream, and that I was truly not safe," the child breathed, then turned his eyes up to meet Nárello's emerald ones, "Am I?"  
  
Nárello could do little more then gaze down at the child for a few brief moments, his shock still trailing through him, though it was tapering off. A thought came to him at the child's question, was he truly safe with him?   
  
Wishing to reassure the boy, he forced a faint smile upon his face, "Of course. I promise to keep you as safe as I can while you are in my care."  
  
The boy seemed less then satisfied at this, but said not, only hugged the elder once more before pulling away and looking around.  
  
"We shall pack up quickly, and head to the Avari settlement," Nárello said, rising and beginning to role up his bedding and spare cloaks that he had used as a bed for them.  
  
"How can I help?" the child asked, turning back to him.  
  
Eyeing the child's gaunt form, Nárello quickly thought of what he could do to make the child feel useful, without injuring or wearing himself down.   
  
"Perhaps you could find Amarth for me?" he asked finally.  
  
The child blinked in confusion, his little face scrunching up cutely, "Amarth?"  
  
"My stallion," Nárello explained, "Despite his name, he is fairly good tempered, except with the enemy. He is probably wondering nearby, and will give you no trouble."  
  
The child smiled a little at the explanation, and ducked out of the tent. Nárello hurriedly finished packing his supplies, then got out and packed up the tent as well. By the time he had all of it tied neatly, he heard the faintest sound of Elven horse hooves. Turning, he smiled, amusement bubbling up in his bruised soul.  
  
The child sat upon Amarth's wide obsidian back, giggling as the horse nearly pranced into the clearing. Shacking his head, Nárello approached his horse, patting him gently on the neck.  
  
"Well, Amarth, it seems you have made a new friend," he said in amusement, while the stallion nickered softly.  
  
Gently lifting the child off the stallion, Nárello loaded and tied down his meager supplies to the horse's back. He then checked the slight campsite, making sure the fire was out, and nothing was left behind. Finally, he lifted the child back onto Amarth, and then leapt up himself. They road off towards the place where he could feel his fellow Elves living.  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Dismounting, Nárello led Amarth into the village, his sharp eyes taking in the buildings around him, and those that passed him. Stopping near the center of the small Elven village, he lifted the child down from the stallion, and then looked around, seeking a place where they could spend the winter.   
  
The child looked up to at his guardian, and then around at the place they were to stop at. Something caught his attention, and he ambled over towards it on his still shaky legs.   
  
Nárello finally found what he was looking for, and looked down to tell his charge, when he noticed he was gone. Slight panic rising in him, he looked around, and caught sight of the child, sitting on the rim of a fountain. Leading Amarth, he approached and soon stood by the child's side. The child was smiling sadly as he watched the sparkling water fall into the basin below, and he seemed not to notice Nárello's approach.  
  
"Home had a lot of fountains," the child sighed softly, his normally bright eyes were dark with sadness and longing.  
  
Placing a gentle hand on the child's shoulder, Nárello also gazed into the shimmering water, his own memories bubbling up. Sighing softly, he pulled away; they were too painful to look upon now. Gazing at the child, he watched the light play upon the innocent face, tinting the silvery hair to blue, and smiled at the youthfulness, yet the maturity haunted his thoughts. No child should seem so old, when they were so young.  
  
"Come, we should find room at the inn," Nárello said.  
  
The child nodded, and leveled himself off the fountain. Once he had steadied himself, he took the elder Elf's hand. Nárello then led the way towards the inn, Amarth's lead in one hand, and the other wrapped around the small, frail hand of the Elven child.  
  
When they arrived, he handed his horse over to the stable hand, with strict instructions upon how the stallion should be treated, before heading into the inn. Conversation stopped briefly as those within looked towards him, then they accepted his presence, and turned away. Making his way to the small counter, he nodded in greeting to the Elven innkeeper.  
  
"I need a room with two beds, for the child and I, as well as accommodations for my stallion," Nárello said.  
  
"Of course. Those can be arranged now..." the innkeeper trailed off.  
  
"Nárello," Nárello said.  
  
"Nárello. For how long?" the innkeeper asked.  
  
"The winter," Nárello said.  
  
"Very well, let me show you to a room, then see to your stallion," the innkeeper said, before stepping out from behind his counter, and starting up the stairs.  
  
Nárello and the child followed silently, and were soon led to a comfortable, sparsely decorated room.  
  
"Thank you, could you send up food for myself and the boy?" Nárello asked just as the innkeeper was about to leave.  
  
"Of course," the innkeeper said, and was gone.  
  
"Well, it seems this shall be our winter home for now," Nárello said, looking around the room as he put his pack down.   
  
The child nodded, his own eyes wondering the place, then back to the Elf that had brought him there, a slight smile to his face.  
  
"And while we are at it, we cannot continue to call you child or boy or Elfling while you are with me," Nárello said, glancing down at the child at his side.  
  
The child scrunched up his face in thought, though slight displeasure was evident in his fair face at the reminder that he might not be with Nárello for much longer.  
  
"I know not what to call myself,..." he said softly.  
  
"Then would you permit me to name you?" Nárello asked gently, kneeling so that he may look the child in the eye.  
  
The child nodded, feeling he owed it to the one who had saved him from the life stealing cold, and the darkness that warped souls.  
  
Nárello examined the quickly becoming familiar face, concentrating mostly upon those bright blue eyes shimmering as they looked into his. The memory of that same face glowing with the light reflected off the clear waters of the fountain came to his mind, then a flash of this same Elfling, years older, bright and fair, brave and willing to sacrifice all, shimmering in silver and crystal armor, a shield with a fountain upon it held in his left hand as a sword of the brightest metal in his right. Then the vision and memory rushed from him, leaving him confused, but with a faint trace of a name.  
  
"Ecthelion," he breathed, still wondering at the vision.  
  
The child's eyes brighten at the name, and impulsively he hugged the other around the neck, effectively ending Nárello's thoughts as he instinctively returned it.  
  
"I believe you like it then?" Nárello asked, smiling slightly, his heart warming at the other's joy.  
  
The child pulled away, and smiled at him as he locked eyes once more, "Oh yes, I truly do!"  
  
"Very well, from now you shall be known as Ecthelion," Nárello said, mirth sparkling in his own deep green eyes.  
  
Ecthelion grinned, then looked thoughtful, his face switching so quickly to cause Nárello to wonder.  
  
"What about you?" Ecthelion asked innocently at last.  
  
"What of me?" Nárello asked, puzzled.  
  
"You're name," Ecthelion said.  
  
"But I have one. Nárello, as I said. Given to me by the waters of Cuivienen," Nárello said, truly confused now.  
  
"But it no longer fits you, it no longer fits this," Ecthelion said, laying a hand gently on Nárello's chest, right above his heart.  
  
Nárello looked in wonder at the small hand over his heart, then up into the suddenly wise eyes of his charge. How could he have known....  
  
"What would you have me called?" Nárello asked softly, shock visible in his usually masked features.  
  
The child seemed to think this over, taking his hand from Nárello's chest, and gently taking a small handful of golden hair, running it through his thin fingers as he thought. Normally Nárello hated others messing with his hair, but he allowed the boy to mess with it, as he waited for his answer.  
  
"Glorfindel," the child said at length, and Nárello nearly berated himself for thinking the child had such a foresight as himself.  
  
"Are you making fun of my hair, little one?" he asked in humor, despite his ill feelings towards himself.  
  
"No," Ecthelion said, "I meant two things. One, your hair is as golden, so yes, it is a thought towards it, the other is here," he placed his hand back upon Nárello's chest, where his heart resided, "Your heart has locks of gold there as well."  
  
Nárello laid a hand on top of Ecthelion's, his eyes filled with wonder. How could this child see?   
  
"Tis, you are right," Nárello whispered.  
  
Ecthelion nodded, and the wisdom seemed to drain from his eyes, becoming veiled once more, and the child was once again there, "So you'll take it?"  
  
"We shall see," Nárello said, just as a knock came to do the door.  
  
Standing, Nárello placed their conversation into a safe place in his mind, to think on later.  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
That night, Nárello lay in his bed, his mind wondering over their conversation. He could not imagine how the child knew, for he had kept all thoughts and memories of his past locked away within himself. The child surely could not have heard, for Nárello knew those who had known him took him for dead. So how could Ecthelion have known?  
  
Another thing also puzzled him, the vision of Ecthelion's future. Or was that truly his future, or some ill-fated vision sent from the Valar. If it was not, what could have brought the child to that? Yes, he knew that Middle Earth was not safe, he knew that better then most. He himself was traveling to Aman, trying to catch up with his company, though he was sure Finwe and his kind had long since passed over. Was this vision to tell him he had failed to make it, or that he had left the child here in Middle Earth?   
  
Whimpers disturbed him from his thoughts, and he turned his head to see Ecthelion moving restlessly, his tiny hands clutching to his blankets as he moved. Rising from his bed, Nárello quickly made his way over, and gently touched the child's shoulder.  
  
The boy instantly became awake, and looked around in fear as he tried to regain his bearings. As his eyes met Nárello's, he relaxed.  
  
"I'm sorry I woke you," Ecthelion said softly.  
  
"I was awake as it is," Nárello said gently, and knelled at the bed, "Bad dream?"  
  
Ecthelion nodded, the paled, "I don't want to talk about it."  
  
"Then I shall not ask. Will you be alright?" Nárello asked.  
  
Ecthelion nodded once more, and burrowed under the covers. Nárello turned to go back to his own bedding when Ecthelion called softly towards him.  
  
"Could you stay with me until I fall asleep?" he asked timidly.  
  
Nárello smiled slightly, and sat down upon the floor, for he knew he did not need much sleep tonight anyways, "Of course."  
  
"Thank you, Nárello," Ecthelion whispered, his eyes already half closing in Elven sleep as he grabbed hold of Nárello's hand.  
  
"Call me Glorfindel," Nárello said softly, finally accepting whatever the Valar had planned for them, for his sealed heart was beginning to unlock to a boy, both wise, and innocent. 


End file.
